


Little Husband

by VolxdoSioda



Series: Kinktober 2019 [21]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Kinktober Day 21: Size Difference, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 05:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21248174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Ardyn wakes up.





	Little Husband

Ardyn wakes to the sensation of something shifting the covers along the edge of the bed. The movements are slow, practiced, cautious like whoever is doing it is doing their best not to wake the lone occupant of the bed. That alone tells Ardyn who his midnight visitor is.

“Noctis,” he sighs, reaching out, finding a bare arm, and tracing up to a shoulder. “You return to me at last, my dear. What kept you?”

“M’sorry,” Noctis apologizes, even though Ardyn’s told him a thousand and one times he doesn’t need to. “Lost track of time.” Any other husband might be inclined to think it a lie; Ardyn knows the man in his arms too well to do so. Noctis works himself to the bone for the good of his people, trying to surpass his father’s reign in all the ways that matter. His insecurities might get the best of him some days, but for the most part he’s settled well into his role as King. 

Ardyn tugs him down, and Noctis lets himself be manhandled like a doll, Ardyn rolling onto his back to shift his smaller husband on top of him. Noctis all but purrs at the amount of physical contact given; even years after the fact, the both of them are so very skin hungry. It feeds into the physical aspect of their marriage rather well, even if it can be a hindrance at times.

“Comfortable?” he offers, and then yawns. “Goodness.”

“Mmhm. Back to sleep?”

“Indeed.” One arm curled around Noctis, the other above his head beneath the pillow, Ardyn lets himself sink back into the blissful warmth of sleep. 

He wakes in quite the opposite position; Noctis beneath him, arm covering his face as he pants into Ardyn’s shoulder, while Ardyn ruts his cock between Noctis’ thighs. Noctis’ own cock is already uncovered, one pale hand stroking it in time to Ardyn’s thrusts as he fights to keep quiet. 

It’s certainly a pretty sight to wake to, but Ardyn wants a better view of it. So he rolls, and Noctis is abruptly astride him, pale flesh on perfect display in the light of the morning. He gazes down at Ardyn with dark eyes as Ardyn greets, “Good morning to  _ you,  _ Majesty,” and then moans when he grips Noctis’ hips and brings their cocks into alignment, encouraging Noctis to move against him.

Noctis is utterly captivating in his chase for pleasure, in nothing but one of Ardyn’s overly-large nightshirts, head tilted back as he wraps a hand around both of them to hold them together as he goes, and Ardyn can’t decide if he wants to roll them back over and fuck Noctis stupid or let him keep on as he is. 

In the end, his little husband makes the choice for him, panting out a rough  _ “Ardyn,”  _ in begging tones. Ardyn rolls them again, reaching over to the bedside table for the lube. It takes no time to get prepped, and he encourages Noctis to wrap his legs around his hips as he presses inside, the man crying out as he does, body still tender and swollen on the inside from more vigorous activities not a day prior. Noctis arches up into each thrust, welcoming him even as tears gather in the corners of his eyes from the stretch. 

Ardyn knows he’s not small by any means, but times like this just drive home the reality that somewhere along the way, the Caelum genes shifted, and the large, wide-shouldered men fit to rival the Amicitia shrunk down, becoming more delicately-aligned. The photographs of their wedding would be almost comical, were it not for the fact that Ardyn spent a majority of them carrying his husband everywhere, and people lapped it up like water. 

Or perhaps it’s merely Noctis who is small, the runt of the Caelum litter. That would be true irony, the Chosen King and the former Accursed, at opposite ends of the spectrum in every way. 

Noctis goes rigid as he comes, body arching, utterly soundless as he shakes apart, painting his own body white with the result of their coupling, tightening down mercilessly to drag Ardyn over with him. Ardyn goes, not unwillingly, because it’s hard to resist any order given by his little husband, let alone one that demands his willing seed. He’s careful easing his way out when it’s over, when Noctis is limp and panting in the bed, flushed with exertion and looking mouth-wateringly beautiful. 

“Morning,” he gets out at last, and Ardyn laughs, pressing a kiss to his forehead. A series of sharp raps on the door interrupts it from going further, and Ignis’ voice filters through the wood.

“If you two are  _ quite done,  _ you both have meetings you’re late for. I can only make so many excuses.” 

The footsteps move away, and Ardyn huffs a laugh and says, “We’d best be getting up, then. The kingdom awaits, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, fine. Can’t even get fucked by my own husband without someone needing something. You think we can talk Ignis around to a vacation anytime soon?”

“Perhaps when Hell freezes over.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I thought.”


End file.
